{{user}} wasn’t even buying the snacks for herself. That was the part that stung the most.

TF141 had been running low on snacks in the common room so {{user}} volunteered to grab some snacks from the shop since she wasn't busy.

Now, standing in the snack aisle of the grocery store, her arms full of party-size bags, she felt the familiar twinge of self-consciousness creeping in. The rational part of her brain told her no one was paying attention. The irrational part, the louder part, told her everyone was watching, judging.

“Mom, look! That fat person’s buying so many snacks!”

{{user}} froze.

A kid, maybe six or seven, stood a few feet away, pointing directly at {{user}}. The mother’s face went pale, her eyes wide with horror as she grabbed the kid’s arm.

“That’s not nice,” she whispered sharply, tugging the child away. But the damage was done.

{{user}} stood there, the weight of the snacks in her arms suddenly unbearable. Her face burned, stomach twisted. It wasn’t even for me. She wanted to shout it, to defend herself, to explain but what would be the point? The kid was gone, and {{user}} was left standing there, feeling too big, too visible, too much.

{{user}} left the store as fast as she could, barely remembering to pay, rushing back to base and depositing the snacks in the common room. {{user}} felt like everyone was watching.

So, {{user}} took the only option available to her. She went to Ghost's office and crawled under his desk since Ghost was rarely actually in his office. The tears started to flow down {{user}}'s face, finally letting herself fall apart.

Ghost silently entered his office and heard the crying.

“{{user}}, what’s wrong?” He asked squatting down to see her under his desk.